A Little Christmas Cheer
by frostykitten
Summary: He was strung in garlands and rows of magic, bright spots of colour that were obviously the wizard equivalent of Muggle Christmas lights. He looked positively festive! And pissed off... Hermione brings Christmas to the Order, Malfoy helps.
1. Part 1

**A/N: A festive whim! This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it got too long, so I've divided it into two parts. I'm channelling some of my Christmas spirit into a story instead of driving my roommate insane by humming Christmas carols, since my attempt to channel it into baking failed completely (not my fault, the recipe and I had different definitions of SMOOTH... *shudders* crunchiest fudge I've ever tried). Not that this means I'm going to stop with the humming, it will probably only encourage it *evilgrin*. **

**Thanks to DragonMaster65 for betaing this!**

**~Frosty**

**Disclaimer: None of the characters, setting, etc. are mine. But it's so much fun to pretend, isn't it?**

**Part 1**

She ducked quickly, more on instinct than anything else, and was barely missed by the curse that would have hit her right in the face had she not moved. Icicles were shaken from the roof of the building she had been standing in front of as the curse whooshed past her and hit the wall. Whipping around and flinging a hex in the direction the curse had come from, Hermione tried to think of a way out of this mess that didn't involve her _dying_ first. As she gasped for air, she made the split second decision to flee – there was no way she could win against all of them by herself, there had to be at least six of them.

They were gaining on her, she knew, but she was running as fast as she could. Her destination in sight, Hermione caught a second wind and managed to put on a burst of speed. The Portkey was waiting just where she had been told it would be; a crumpled old paperback was sitting at the top of the hill. She scowled as she ran, throwing another nervous look over her shoulder; what kind of tactical planning lead them to think that exposed on the top of a hill was the best place for her only escape route? She would be completely exposed to anyone looking!

She leaped towards the little book and caught hold of it just as the Death Eaters chasing her caught up to her. A curse hit her just as she disappeared from their sight.

Groaning when the impact of her arrival caused her head to bounce off the floor and enhance the pain that was searing through her shoulder, Hermione looked around the empty sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Thinking the lack of reaction to her appearance meant the no one was currently in the Order Headquarters, Hermione groaned again before scooting over to the nearest sofa and using it to shakily pull herself to her exhausted feet. She honestly meant to make her way to the loo and patch herself up, but the soft cushions were just so inviting. Unable to resist the temptation of her exhaustion, Hermione collapsed face-first into the inviting embrace of the sofa.

"Are you aware that you're bleeding all over the floor?" Someone drawled from the general direction of the doorway, interrupting her descent into comforting oblivion.

Hermione groaned; was there no one else in the house that could have found her?

"Sorry Granger, I'm the only one here."

It seemed she had mumbled that last thought out loud. How he heard it from the other side of the room with her voice muffled by the pillow, she would never know. Maybe the git had super-hearing or something; 'all the better to annoy you with' and all that.

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her tense and jump a little bit. "Calm down, I'm just going to fix your shoulder," he told her soothingly – well, as soothingly as she'd ever heard from him, anyway.

A ripping sound made her tense again as he ripped her sweater from the cuff to the collar. She shivered a little as he carefully peeled the sweater back from the wound on her shoulder and exposed her skin to the cold air.

Had she not been so exhausted and in pain, she would probably have objected to letting Malfoy do this for her. As it was, he seemed to be her only option if she didn't want to bleed to death. His hands were most likely covered in her blood from touching her sweater, which had been saturated with it, and he had yet to make a comment on her 'dirty blood' - not that she was expecting one. No one was really sure why, but when the war had started up in earnest and they were no longer able to attend school because they were needed in the fight, Malfoy had come to the Order and claimed he wanted to help their side.

At first, everyone had agreed that there had to be some sort of ulterior motive behind his sudden desire to go against everything he'd been raised to believe and seemed to practice pretty strictly since he'd been young. After many hours in an interrogation room with Veritaserum and Aurors, somehow he had been cleared as trustworthy and accepted into the Order. Harry and Ron had been mortified, but Malfoy had proven himself useful time and time again, and they were unable to argue about his commitment to the cause and his efficiency when in the field. They grudgingly accepted Malfoy's presence when he had taken a curse because he pushed Ginny out of the way.

Hermione hissed quietly when he cast the cleaning charm on her shoulder; it had to be done before he could heal it or the site could get infected. She knew it was necessary, but it felt like he'd just dumped disinfectant onto the open wound. The pain faded as he muttered healing spells over her, completely focused on what he was doing.

Tension melted away from her body as the pain faded, leaving only room for exhaustion and a dull throbbing in her head from when she Portkeyed in and whacked it on the floor. She was quickly pulled into a dream world once again, not even noticing the quiet spells to repair her sweater and remove the dirt and blood from her, or the hand that gently smoothed her hair down before pulling a blanket over her.

* * *

Hermione had no idea how long she'd been asleep, but her body felt heavy and stiff, so she assumed it had been at least several hours. She'd been laying there awake for a while, but was afraid to move; if her head was pounding this bad when she was stationary, any slight movement was going to send jolts of pain bouncing around her skull.

Knowing she was going to have to move eventually, Hermione started with her toes - they were the farthest from her pounding head and stiff shoulder. A comforting smell encouraged her to move a little faster until she had rolled herself onto her side where she could see the delicate teacup and vial of a familiar orange potion waiting for her on the table.

Preparing herself for the wave of agony that would shoot through her head, Hermione reached an arm out to the orange pain potion first. Tipping the vial to her lips, she cringed a little bit at the familiar and unpleasant taste. As it took effect, she let out a sigh of relief and eased herself into a sitting position. No longer worried about jostling her head, she was free to investigate the inviting smell coming from the teacup.

A quiet sigh of happiness escaped her when she discovered it was peppermint tea waiting for her on the table with a warming charm keeping it piping hot. She smiled as she took a sip of the steaming drink, remembering when she used to drink this with her parents around Christmas time.

She suddenly jolted as a thought occurred to her. What was the date today? She knew it had been cold for a while, but could it actually be December already? Forgetting all about her stiffness and the aches that the pain potion had removed, Hermione gulped the rest of her tea, cringing a little when she scalded her tongue before running from the room in search of a copy of the Daily Prophet, hoping she could find a recent one.

As it turned out, she was in luck. Sitting on a small table in the front foyer of the old house was a very recent paper – it had to be, the raid she had just participated in the night before was on the front page. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the little numbers in the top corner; it couldn't possibly be that late already! It claimed the date was December 21!

Hermione had never been one of those people who was obsessed over the holiday season and pushed it on other people, but that was before. With a war looming over the heads of everyone, a little Christmas cheer to lighten spirits was just what was needed. Knowing that no one else would take it upon themselves to do the job, Hermione had decided that _she_ would bring the holiday cheer to Grimmauld Place this season.

Before she could start with the decorating, she had something to do. She walked into the kitchen and found Malfoy sitting at the kitchen table pushing a grape around with his fingertips and looking bored out of his mind. "Thank you," she told him, not looking at him, but knowing he'd raised an eyebrow in questioning amusement. He hadn't asked her what she was thanking him for, but she felt the need to clarify. "For helping me last night, I probably would have died of blood loss or something equally melodramatic while I slept if you hadn't patched me up."

There was an awkward pause between the two of them, causing Hermione to shuffle her feet and glance around. Suddenly, a strange, probably stupid idea occurred to her.

"Malfoy, would you like to help me decorate Grimmauld Place for Christmas?" She asked hopefully, having suddenly realized he might just be bored enough to do something nice. Her job would be easier if she had some help. Plus he was tall, so she wouldn't have to get a chair or use an inaccurate levitating charm to help her reach higher things.

"Why would I do that?" He asked. He seemed genuinely curious why she thought he would help; she was surprised he hadn't put more of a sneer in his question.

"Do you have anything better to do?" She looked pointedly at the grape he'd accidently squished when he pushed it a little too hard.

His grey eyes looked up into her brown ones with an unreadable look for several drawn-out seconds, seemingly questioning her motivations for asking him to help. Apparently satisfied with whatever conclusions he'd come to, he wordlessly got up and walked over to her, looking down at her expectantly when he got close enough.

"Shouldn't we get started?" He asked, snapping her out of the daze she'd been when she realized he was actually considering helping her.

"Yes," she said determinedly, shaking off the remains of her confusion and leading the way purposefully towards the attic, where she had seen a few boxes of what looked like Christmas decorations the last time she'd been shuffling through the boxes up there in hopes of finding something new to read.

Hermione looked pointedly from the little string hanging from the ceiling to the blonde standing beside her in the dingy hallway and watching with amusement, but he didn't move to help her: he was going to make her ask. Fine, she didn't really need his help anyway!

Huffing in annoyance, she stood underneath the string and looked up at it, attempting to judge the distance before she made a fool of herself and tried to reach it. She stood on the tips of her toes and stretched both arms above her head, wincing a bit when her not-quite-healed shoulder twinged a little as she stretched it - and then Malfoy was there moving her out of the way and pulling the stairs down.

She gave him a look of confusion, but he was too focused on looking dubiously at the dust and cobwebs that had drifted down when he pulled the stairs down. Deciding it was best to forget her confusion for the moment and move on with her plans, she went first.

The stairs creaked ominously as she made her way up to them, but they held steady while she climbed. Looking around at the dusty boxes and sheet-covered furniture, Hermione frowned; she wasn't going to be able to do this without spreading dust everywhere.

"Where are the decorations?" Malfoy asked, having finished climbing the rickety and most likely dangerous stairs.

"I'm not sure..." She said, still looking around the room and trying to remember.

They chose opposite ends of the room and started opening boxes, hoping to find something that looked vaguely Christmas-y.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked after a while of rifling in silence.

"Hmmm?" He hummed absently, holding a pair of old-fashioned dress robes against himself and looking at them in contemplation.

"Do you know where everyone is?"

"It's not my job to keep track of everyone in the Order," he told her. He seemed to realize how harsh that sounded, because he added: "I think Potter mentioned something about a raid when he was leaving, right before you got back."

She nodded her thanks, not willing to verbalize it and make him think she owed him something for the information. Looking at the box she was shuffling through in an attempt to avoid an awkward situation, she grinned hugely.

"Found them!" She announced triumphantly, holding up a sparking silver garland and a handful of round red ornaments that were tangled in it by the wires meant to keep them on the tree. The boxes nearest to the one she had just opened proved to have the same sort of holiday decorations inside, enough to do the entire main floor!

Humming happily, Hermione lifted the lightest of the boxes and turned towards the stairs, only to run into a wall – a warm wall that steadied her when she staggered a little from the impact.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" She asked, annoyed.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he snapped at her, causing her eyes to dart to his face. His jaw was tense and he was eyes glaring at her, what had she done _now_?

Obviously seeing her bewilderment at his sudden mood swings, he rolled his eyes and took the box from her, letting go of it almost immediately to float behind him with the rest of them. Oh. He was being helpful. She scowled at his back as he went down the stairs. He could have just _explained_ what he was doing instead of getting mad at her! His mood swings were worse than a pregnant woman's.

Having lagged behind a little to make sure the attic stairs were back in the ceiling, Hermione walked slowly downstairs, wondering why Malfoy had agreed to help her so willingly. She gave up trying to figure him out when she found him in the living room, decorated like a Christmas tree. He was strung in garlands and rows of magic, bright spots of colour that were obviously the wizard equivalent of Muggle Christmas lights. He looked positively festive! And pissed off...

"Malfoy," she started, not doing a very good job of stifling her laughter. "What are you doing?"

"The ornaments are charmed to decorate the tree themselves, and apparently they thought I was the tree," he muttered angrily. She knew the anger was directed at the garlands currently binding his arms to his sides and not her, which was oddly reassuring; he wasn't going to lash out at her just because the decorations had turned on him – she'd never done this the wizard way before, and had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time one of them was attacked by the decorations. Finally giving into the laughter, Hermione laughed until she couldn't breathe and tears were running down her face.

"Are you just going to stand there laughing, or are you going to help me out of this?" Malfoy snapped. Okay, _now_ some of that anger was directed towards her, but she'd earned it. Helplessly clutching her stomach and still laughing weakly, Hermione moved towards him to help him. She would have helped him out, honestly. It's just that as she was walking by the open boxes between them, she noticed a Santa hat that would top off his festive look nicely...

Snatching the hat and hiding it behind her back, hoping he was too distracted to notice, Hermione walked up to and reached for a spot just below his collar bones where the garlands crossed. She grabbed a handful of garlands and pulled him down to her level, he seemed too surprised to resist. Grinning hugely, Hermione stuck the bright red hat on his head and stepped back to admire her work.

"I think it completes the outfit," she said approvingly, ignoring the dangerous glare he was now sending her way.

"Granger, get this off of me!" He growled, causing her to grin wider – it's hard to be intimidating when covered in a rainbow of blinking lights and silver garland. Knowing he was helping her voluntarily and she shouldn't push him too far, she relented and waved her wand at the decorations, causing them to neatly fly off of him and land in an organized pile on the coffee table.

When he could move his arms again, he reached up to pull off the Santa hat, only to find that tugging on it had no effect. "What the hell did you do to the hat?" He demanded.

"I didn't do anyt-" She stopped midsentence, having noticed a tiny label stitched on the hat. "Umm, it _may_ be a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product, and I _may_ have just seen the label..." She cringed, not looking at him, as she waited for the explosion.

When the explosion didn't come, she cracked an eye open to see if he was about to Avada her, but he wasn't there anymore. She nearly whipped around and hexed him when she felt something stick onto her head. "What did you do?" She demanded frantically, reaching her hands up to her hair to find what felt like a bow.

Hearing the strangest choking sound, she turned to face the blond and stared as he desperately tried to stifle his laughter and failed miserably. She watched for a second as his shoulders shook with mirth and his eyes crinkled at the corners, unsure of a time when she'd ever seen him so carefree and happy.

Storming out of the room, she stomped angrily to the hallway where she knew there was a mirror and then stared in horror when she caught sight of her reflection. Not only was it a Slytherin green bow with silver trimming, but it seemed to have dyed her skin red and white striped, like a _candy cane_! To her utter dismay, the bow seemed just as stuck as the hat had. The Weasley twins were going to be in a world of pain once the holidays were over – one does not exact their revenge during the holidays, it interferes with the Christmas cheer.

"Come on Granger, I think you look delicious," Malfoy said with a smirk, standing in the doorway leading back to the sitting room.

Refusing to let a little prank ruin her festive mood, Hermione pushed past him and went back to the boxes, choosing a green and gold garland to decorate the mantle of the fireplace. Malfoy was still chuckling softly behind her, but she ignored him, focusing all her attention on placing her garland perfectly even.

"We're missing something..." She muttered once she was finished obsessively adjusting the garland. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the wireless in the corner. That was it! How could she possibly decorate without Christmas carols? With a swish of her wand, the room was filled with the uplifting and happy beat of a jingly Christmas favourite, causing her to wiggle along with the music as she grabbed another garland and set to work hanging it around a bookshelf. She didn't notice the silver eyes that followed her around the room, or the small, affectionate smile just south of those eyes.

* * *

"Malfoy, it's snowing!" Hermione announced happily the next morning when she came into the kitchen for breakfast and found him there, lounging against the counter as he ate cereal. He was only wearing his Santa hat and a pair of green pyjama bottoms, and she was briefly distracted by his well toned... everything.

"So? There's been snow on the ground for weeks," his unenthusiastic response was both annoying and welcome, since it served to snap her back to reality.

"There's just something magical about snow, it's like the air's filled with sparkles and all the accumulated dirt on everything is covered by a pure layer of shimmering white."

"Granger, it's snow. It's not anything magical; you're a witch, you should know how to recognize magical things."

She ignored his commentary and moved to the cupboards to see if she could scavenge up some form of nourishment – she really didn't like cereal for breakfast; it was too early in the day to deal with milk.

"Who gets more food when we run out here?" She wondered aloud, looking dubiously at a bagel that seemed to be polka dotted with green. It was festive, but she was pretty sure it'd make her sick.

"I think someone usually goes to the nearest Muggle grocery store in disguise," Malfoy answered absently; apparently he wasn't a morning person, and his conversation skills suffered.

"Good." She decided. "We need ingredients for a proper Christmas dinner and desserts." Without waiting for input or finding anything she wanted to eat, Hermione left the room to have a shower before she ventured out into the Muggle world. She was hoping the hot water would somehow wash the charm on the bow away and it would come off, or at the very least, her stripes would fade a little.

After dressing quickly, she practically danced down the stairs, actually excited for _grocery shopping_. Her stripes hadn't faded, but she wasn't going to let that dampen her spirit. All the fighting and the constant vigilance made her nostalgic for the things that used to bore her, like cooking and grocery shopping. Those little doses of normalcy were what helped her hold herself together amongst all the chaos that made up her life.

She was pleased that she'd managed a glamour charm that could temporarily cover up the stripes on her skin; it would fade in a few hours, but it would allow her to leave the house without drawing too much attention. There was nothing she could do about the gaudy bow she was stuck with though; she was going to have to just accept it.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked when she was heading towards the door with her coat, hat, boots and mittens.

"I'm going to get some food and ingredients for baking." She told him defiantly, waiting for him to tell her it was a stupid idea, or too dangerous or something.

Instead of what she expected, he sighed. "Let me get my coat. I'm coming with you and you need a disguise."

Her eyebrows went up. "You're not going to tell me it's too dangerous or that it's a stupid idea?"

"I can tell you those things all I want, you'll still go." He shrugged his coat on, cast a mild glamour charm on himself to change his facial features and hair and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to lead the way. It seemed that Malfoy knew her better than she thought he did. That, or knowledge of her stubbornness had spread further than she'd thought.

She cast a similar charm to hide her identity on herself before opening the door. She forgot all about Malfoy and his strangeness; she was too excited about the snow. Spreading her arms wide, she took a second to spin around a few times, staring up at the falling flakes lit by the watery winter sun.

"You know that you look bloody mad when you do that," Malfoy said, ruining her fun.

"Says the one in the Santa hat," she told him, looking at the bright red hat he was unwillingly sporting. She was lucky: she had been able to cover her bow with a nice, normal winter hat. Laughing to herself, she turned and walked down the street, letting him follow her.

When he didn't come back with a scathing response, she glanced back at him. "Malfoy, are you... pouting?" She asked disbelievingly. He didn't come across as the type to pout, more as the type who hexed and then laughed maniacally, but then, she'd been wrong about him in the past; she never would have believed him to be someone with a character strong enough to turn against everything he was raised to believe and change sides, but there he was.

"No," he answered, but he refused to meet her eyes. She let out a carefree laugh and slowed her step so she was walking beside him.

"Is the big, scary Malfoy upset that he's wearing a Gryffindor colour and looking festive?" She teased, flicking the pompom at the end of his hat.

Instead of answering, he gave her another one of those unreadable looks he seemed so fond of recently. It stayed on his face for a second before melting into a very small smile – just a slight upturning of the corners of his mouth, really. "This from the Gryffindor in the Slytherin bow?"

Hermione frowned, irritated. "It's not a Slytherin bow, it's festive!" She snapped haughtily, speeding up to walk ahead of him and into the store.

She looked behind her to see Malfoy standing outside of the sliding doors, looking at them with confusion. "What kind of magic is this?" He asked quietly when she came back to see what was taking him so long.

"The magic of electricity," she informed him mysteriously, dragging him inside and pushing him in the direction of the carts. "Grab one of those and follow me."

Their shopping trip was relatively uneventful, except for the few occasions when Muggles got too close to Malfoy and his hand snapped up to rest of his wand. Or when the polite questions the cashier asked her got a little too personal for him to be comfortable, so he slammed some money down on the counter, grabbed her arm and the bags and hustled her out of the store.

"Malfoy!" She grumbled, frustrated. "They were just being polite!" He ignored her and continued hustling her down the sidewalk, seemingly oblivious to the stares they were getting, but probably more aware of their surroundings than he was letting on. "You're making a scene!" She snapped; taking in the vaguely worried looks she was getting front he holiday shoppers as she was manhandled down the street.

Digging in her heels, Hermione refused to go another step and Malfoy didn't seem willing to actually drag her down the street. "What _now_?" He groaned, frustrated.

"A Christmas tree!" She exclaimed, pointing to the tree lot beside them. She wanted to hit herself on the forehead for almost forgetting something so obvious! How could she almost forget the Christmas tree?

"There is no way we'd be able to get back to the house without drawing attention," he told her, sounding irritated.

"We have magic on our side, we'll think of something." She didn't wait for his answer, just strode determinedly into the lot to find a tree. Looking around the lot, she chose a really small tree. It was barely 60cm tall, and not very full, obviously meant for a flat where there wasn't very much spare room.

"That's one of the saddest trees I've ever seen," Malfoy scornfully told her when she had paid and met him at the entrance, where he had been waiting for her with the groceries.

"It won't be when I'm done with it."

* * *

"Granger... How did you manage to cover the _entire_ kitchen in flour while I was putting the tree in the other room?"

She shot him a glare, but continued to collect the flour piles on the table back into the bag it had somehow escaped from. Consulting the recipe again and ignoring the blond, she carefully measured out the right amount and poured it in the mixing bowl.

She continued to ignore Malfoy as he perched on the counter to watch her cracking an egg and then muttering angrily as she fished out the bits of eggshells.

"You're not very good at this baking thing, are you?" He asked her, amused.

"I can cook all kinds of delicious healthy dinners, but my parents were never ones for letting me make sweets, dentists and all that," she told him, frowning at the recipe.

"How about this: I'll finish the baking today, and you handle the dinner tomorrow?" She turned to stare at Malfoy in disbelief.

"You'd do that?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "If you're bad at baking now, you're going to be even worse once your pain potion wears off in-" he glanced at the clock, "half an hour."

"How do you know I'm not feeling fine?" Contrary to what he obviously wanted to believe, he didn't know everything about everything.

"Because that was one nasty curse I removed from your shoulder, and it's going to take a while before you're feeling back to normal without some form of pain relief." She watched as he rifled through his pockets, seemingly looking for something. Pulling a vial from his robes, he handed it to her. "Here, drink this once-"

She took it from him and drank it in one gulp, wincing a little at the taste, but glad for the relief from the slow, burning pain that had been spreading from her shoulder gradually for the past ten minutes.

"- you're in bed because it's going to knock you right out," Malfoy finished, giving her an irritated look for not letting him finish before she drank the whole thing.

Feeling a little drowsy already, Hermione turned towards to doorway, but fell over almost immediately. She shut her eyes tightly in preparation for the impact, but it never happened. Strong arms caught her and pulled her against a warm body, and she was too tired to open her eyes again. If she hadn't been leaning against his chest, she never would have caught the quiet rumble of: "Reckless Gryffindor; going to be the death of me," before she was completely asleep.


	2. Part 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favourited, etc! Also, thanks again to DragonMaster65 for betaing this!**

**I was quite upset to find that the charts that tell me how many people looked at the first half said 0 for TWO DAYS, which I knew were LIES because I got reviews and people favourited and put on alert, which would be hard to do without actually clicking on the story... It was saddening. BUT it came back now, so I can once more check it.**

**Anyway, here's the second half, enjoy!**

**~Frosty**

**Part 2**

She woke up to the delicious smell of cookies and who knows what other manner of delectable things baking, which was strange, because Malfoy agreeing he would do the baking was the last thing she remembered, so the smell should be burning, shouldn't it?

Stretching tentatively, she was pleased when she found that there was no more twinge of pain in her shoulder. That last potion Malfoy gave her must have been a strong one. Wait. She had fallen over in the kitchen and Malfoy had been there to catch her and carry her to bed.

Frantically, she lifted up the warm blankets covering her and peeked underneath. Good, he'd left her in her clothes; she wouldn't have to hex his balls off.

She rolled out of the bed she stayed in when at Grimmauld Place and shuffled over to her bureau to pull out some clothes. At the sight of her still striped arm, she groaned; the glamour charm covering her stripes had worn off.

A little worried about the state of the kitchen, Hermione hesitantly walked down the stairs and peeked around the doorway. Malfoy was nowhere to be found, but lined up along the counter were cookies, cupcakes, fudge, and what looked like strawberry shortcake. Her eyes were huge as she took in the sweets she could only assume Malfoy had made.

"Surprised, Granger?" Malfoy asked, sneaking up behind her. She jumped and hit her head on his chin; he was standing closer than she had thought.

"Merlin, Malfoy! Don't sneak up like that!" She snapped, rubbing her head.

"Why? Will you hex me with your war sharpened reflexes?" He asked dryly, a hand over his chin.

Scowling at him, she moved to investigate the food he had prepared. So her reflexes weren't quite up to par when she thought she was somewhere safe; she should be finishing her last year at Hogwarts, not fighting a war!

The chocolate cupcakes were the only thing other than the cookies that she could taste without having to cut into something, so she grabbed one of them and tentatively took a bite. Malfoy was watching her smugly from the other side of the kitchen, with his Santa hat still on, but askew; it seemed he'd been able to wash his hair while wearing it, as his hair was wet underneath the hat.

Surprisingly, the cupcake tasted as good as it looked, possibly better. "Where did you learn to cook like this?" She asked, taking another bite.

"I was an only child and the House Elves were always willing to entertain my by showing me how to cook," he shrugged, looking like he would appreciate it if she dropped the topic of his childhood.

There wasn't really anything she could say to that, so she just nodded to show that she'd heard and took another bite of her cupcake.

* * *

Hands on her hips, Hermione regarded the sad little tree she had picked out. Sure, it needed to grow a few metres and fill out a bit, but after that, it would be perfect. The book she had found on the subject in the Grimmauld Place library was lying open in front of her. Looking from the book to the tree one more time, she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes before casting her spells.

She watched with satisfaction as the tree grew and grew until it was a perfect specimen. It became obvious that she had forgotten something when the tree toppled over, knocking her wand out of her hand and pinning her to the floor.

All of the breath in her lungs escaped with a whoosh and the pine needles scraped her face and hands, but otherwise, she was fine. She was also trapped; the tree was too heavy for her to move herself.

Sighing as much as the weight of the tree would allow, and knowing she would regret it, Hermione called for Malfoy, who was supposed to be looking for book on festive transfiguration in the library, but she suspected he was in there napping – not that she really blamed him; that library was more likely to have a book on ways to transfigure your enemies into trees than it would on how to decorate for the holidays.

A few loud thumps signalled the arrival of the blonde, it seemed he wasn't quiet _all_ the time after all. "Granger, how the bloody hell did you manage to get the tree to _attack_ you?" He demanded as he levitated the tree off of her and leaned it against a wall. "I've seen you in battle, you're perfectly competent. How is it that with your help, one little tree nearly offs you when hoards of Death Eaters can't?" The lecture continued uninterrupted, as he pulled her to her feet and started brushing the pine needles off of her.

"In case you haven't noticed, the tree isn't so little anymore," she snapped at him. Bringing a hand to her face, Hermione winced when she felt the scratches there. Malfoy noticed this and waved his wand, erasing all of the minor scratches for her skin.

"You make my job so much harder," he muttered.

She frowned and caught his arm as he turned away, stuffing his wand in his pocket. "What job?"

He paled a little and his eyes darted away from her face. "Nothing."

Refusing to let go of his arm despite his escape attempts, Hermione persisted. "No, it's something. What is the job I make harder?"

His jaw tensed and his eyes hardened as he resolutely looked away from her, refusing to break his stony silence.

"The Order didn't ask you to do something like watch over me, did they?" This was supposed to be a joking question to make him correct her, but he stiffly nodded his head a fraction, telling her she had actually been right.

"What?" She screeched. "They think I'm not capable of taking care of myself, so they send _you_ of all people to look after me?" Had it not been Draco Malfoy she'd been yelling at, she would have sworn that was hurt flashing across his face before it rearranged into a snarl.

"No. They thought it might be a good idea for you to have some extra protection since the Death Eaters are targeting you specifically. I was the best one for the job because-" He abruptly stopped his growled speech, seeming to realize he'd said too much. He then whipped around and stomped away, slamming a door somewhere deeper in the house.

She glared after him and huffed, but turned back to her previous task.

As she decorated the tree, Hermione thought about Malfoy. In the last few days alone, he'd helped her numerous times, and despite some light teasing, he'd been nothing but gentle and kind to her. A frown settled on her face when she realized that he'd actually helped her many times in the field as well, seeming to appear when she was ambushed and alone or starting to tire.

She tilted her head to the side and examined the flawless job she'd done on the tree, but couldn't enjoy it knowing she owed Malfoy an apology. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it had taken longer than she'd thought it would to finish the tree. Deciding her apology couldn't wait, Hermione walked to Malfoy's room, only to hesitate outside the door. Should she knock? What if he didn't want to speak to her after she was so unappreciative and downright mean to him?

She was about to turn away and come back in the morning when she heard him say her name somewhere on the other side of the door. Taking this as an invitation to come in, she turned the doorknob and walked in, surprised to find that it was pitch dark inside, it seemed he was sleeping.

"Hermione... No! Stop! ... Not her!" She felt a jolt when he called out her first name instead of her last. He was rolling around on his bed having a bad dream. And she was in it?

"Malfoy?" She asked hesitantly, unsure about what to do, but unable to just leave him when he was so obviously distressed.

He didn't respond to her calls, he just kept thrashing around in his bed. Moving carefully through the dark, Hermione made her way over to the bed and hesitantly perched on the very edge. "Malfoy?" She tried again, but it still didn't work.

"Draco?" She asked, reaching out to lay a calming hand on his bare shoulder – of course the git didn't wear a shirt to bed, but then, she already knew that. The whole thing was a bad idea; he was going to kill her when he woke up!

To her great surprise, either her touch or her use of his first name stilled him, and he seemed to fall into a more restful sleep. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping normally, without anything weighing on him he looked younger, almost vulnerable.

He voluntarily added to the already large burden he was carrying by trying to keep her safe. She wasn't sure what made her do it, possibly as the thanks for helping her that she could never really express with words; she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

As she was pulling away, his arm came out from under the covers, pulling her against him. She made a distressed squeak and tried to struggle out of his hold without waking him up, but he was strong and she was thoroughly trapped; if she wanted to get out she was going to have to wake him up.

"You're going to kill me when you wake up," she whispered to the sleeping body beside her as she settled in and resigned herself to her fate.

Malfoy was just as warm as she remembered from her trip in his arms during her potion induced haze; she was surprisingly comfortable against him once she'd tugged the blankets to cover her as well. Just before she fell asleep, she felt him pull her even closer and nuzzle her hair, letting out a content sigh.

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling better rested than she had in a long time, but her contentment quickly faded when she caught sight of her surroundings. Face scrunched up in fear of what she was going to find, she slowly turned her head until she could see his face.

Malfoy was watching her, obviously awake, but he didn't look near as mad as she had been expecting him to be. Now that she was looking at him closely, he didn't seem mad at all. "You're not furious with me for coming into your room?" She asked him, turning over so she didn't have to bed her head at a funny angle to see him.

"Quite the contrary. Feel free to crawl into my bed whenever you feel like it," he told her with a grin, his voice still slightly gravelly from sleep.

"You were having a nightmare and I was in it." The sentence slipped out of her mouth of its own volition, it was a curse from her curious brain!

Instead of avoiding her eyes like he would have normally, he kept them steady, staring back into hers. "Nothing terrifies me more than the thought of something bad happening to you."

Her eyes widened in shock as she took in this new piece of information. He was so fervent with his revelation, and it was reflected in his eyes. There was no mistaking his sincerity, it took her breath away.

They were so close already that he barely had to move to cover the rest of the space between them and kiss her. She froze at the first little touch of their lips, and he pulled away looking mortified, probably about to apologize.

"I was just surprised idiot," she mumbled, bringing her hands up to pull him back to her. If she thought she had been warm before, she was burning up now, starting from where their mouths were connected and everywhere his hands touched as they wandered down her sides and up her back and radiating out from there until she was sure she was going to be consumed by it.

He surprised her again by nipping her lip, making her gasp, which seemed to be just what he wanted; she felt his brief smirk against her lips.

"That better be a candy cane," she whispered jokingly a while later upon feeling something poking her. It seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say, because he pulled away and groaned. "Get out," he ordered huskily.

She looked at him in confusion, but he seemed to be completely serious. "Out!" He ordered again, sharper.

Feeling bewildered, hurt, and rejected, Hermione got up and walked out, making sure to shut the door behind her. She seemed to be a master of saying and doing just the wrong thing when it came to him. Maybe he'd just been screwing with her head until he realized he liked it too much and then sent her away before he did something he'd regret. She'd always just be a Mudblood to him.

Fighting tears now, she walked into her room and grabbed a change of clothes before getting into the shower, where she adjusted the water to just short of scalding and let it soothe her.

Hermione sighed when she got to the kitchen; it was Christmas Eve and she was supposed to cook most of Christmas dinner the day before and then just put stasis spells on the food, like they had done with the desserts. She was going to make enough to feed almost the entire Order, in hopes that they'd all show up in time to eat it with her.

She decided the turkey was probably the place to start, but had no idea how to go about it. She pulled it out of the freezer and staggered; the thing was _heavy_! How in the world had Malfoy managed to carry all the groceries and drag her down the street at the same time?

Heaving the turkey onto the counter, she regarded it skeptically. What now? She seriously doubted she'd be able to use the cookbook she'd been using before to help her cook a frozen turkey... Deciding removing the plastic was the logical place to start, she pulled out the scissors and started cutting.

To her immense relief, there was cooking instructions on the plastic. Struggling to lift the thing without getting raw poultry germs all over her clothes, the evil bird managed to slip out of her hands, slide off the counter and onto the floor. Lovely.

"I'm _never_ doing this again," she muttered angrily as she tried to get enough of a hold on the thing to lift it off of the floor. Finally, something occurred to her, and she glanced at the doorway to make sure Malfoy wasn't there about to make fun of her for not remembering sooner, but then she reminded herself that he seemed to be mad at her... She almost missed his teasing and it'd only been a few hours.

She pulled her wand out and levitated the turkey onto the counter, casing a disinfecting charm on it to remove anything it may have picked up while on the floor. She levitated it into the waiting pan and then consulted the instructions on the wrapper again.

When the turkey was finally prepared to the specifications on the wrapper and in the oven cooking, she moved on to the vegetables, something that was actually _easy_ to do. She was planning on mashed potatoes; steamed broccoli; baked sweet potato, carrots, onions, and normal potatoes; corn; and squash. She'd cheated and bought the cranberry sauce and a ham already made to save herself attempting to make something she'd never made before and avoid trouble like what she'd experience with the evil turkey.

When Malfoy finally decided to come out of his room, she was starting to get really frazzled; her hair had dried into a frizzy mess, she had some carrots in the pocket of her apron, tears in her eyes from chopping the onions, and a was dealing with a slice she'd managed to cut across her palm when she'd been chopping potatoes.

"Granger, let me see that cut," he sighed, walking forward and reaching for her injured hand.

She took a step back, pulling her hand away from him and cradling it against her chest. "You're not coming anywhere near me!" She snapped as she turned her back on him and healed her hand herself with her wand. If he was going to pull things like he had that morning, then she was going to regress back to how she'd treated him in Hogwarts, back when he couldn't really hurt her because he was just an evil little Slytherin prick, maybe then the hurt she felt now would fade.

Having healed herself, Hermione continued to ignore the blonde, imagining he was the potato she was cutting into tiny little cubes, it was strangely comforting.

"Have you ever wondered why I joined the Order?" He asked quietly from behind her. She didn't answer, but she tilted her head slightly to show that she was listening. "Remember when I said the Death Eaters were targeting you specifically? Well, I was still one of them when I found that out, but I couldn't just let them go after you when you were completely unaware of the danger. Your moronic friends are so fond of taking you for granted and just sending you into danger thinking you're immortal or something just because you're 'Hermione Granger'. I came to the Order the same night I found out they were after you." There was a scuffling sound, probably him turning to leave the room.

"Why?" She questioned without turning around.

" Because... I care about you," he muttered in a rush, as if he didn't want to say it and it'd just come out.

She turned around and looked at him then. He was standing there looking defeated with his eyes closed and an expression of pain on his face. It was like he really hadn't intended that to come out and was expecting some sort of fallout now. Was he expecting her to hit him or something?

"If you care about me, then what the hell was that in your room this morning?"

A scowl developed on her face when he turned his head away from her once again. Stomping forward, she grabbed his chin and turned him back to her, not caring that she was getting various vegetable juices all over his chin. "Stop looking away and answer!" She practically screeched, not sure why it upset her so much.

"I wasn't completely awake when I kissed you... I realized you'd regret it later and didn't want to hurt myself further."

"I never would have thought you'd be one to be so hard on yourself." She scolded. "You underestimate me Draco; I knew exactly what I was doing." She felt him start a little, but wasn't sure why until she realized she'd called him by his first name.

Grinning, Hermione decided to push his buttons. "What's wrong Draco? Not used to me calling you Draco?"

"Hermione, you should probably stop unless you want me-" She interrupted whatever he was going to say by kissing him.

Wow, if that was what it felt like for him when she said his name, she didn't blame him for starting a little whenever she said his. His response to her kiss was immediate and passionate; he swiped the poor vegetables off the counter and sat her on it, probably to avoid getting a crick in his neck from bending down to reach her.

Hermione made a surprised squeak when he picked her up and sat her on the counter, and was working her way to indignation over the vegetables on the floor, but then he was kissing her again and she couldn't care less.

He'd moved on to her neck when he mumbled: "You smell like a candy cane."

She giggled, partly because he was ticking her a little bit, and partly because she'd bought peppermint body wash at the store as a joke while they'd been getting the food.

They were interrupted by the dinging of the oven, signalling it was time to check the turkey. "Evil bird," Hermione muttered once again, for an entirely different reason this time. She gently pushed Draco away before navigating the vegetable graveyard that the floor had become on her way to the stove.

"You know, I was never overly fond of candy canes, but I think they're growing on me," Draco said behind her, straightening his askew Santa hat as he watched her bend down to check the turkey.

She waved her wand and disinfected the vegetables and put them back on the counter, sending Draco a look for being so careless with food, everything was probably bruised now. He just grinned at her, unabashed. Picking up her knife again, Hermione started chopping once more – there was a _lot_ of chopping to do if she was going to make enough food to feed all of her friends.

"You could help you know," she told Draco, who seemed content to watch her as she chopped things.

"And you could be done a lot faster if you just did it with magic."

Huffing in annoyance, but knowing it wasn't worth the argument to explain that she preferred the sense of accomplishment that came from doing it by hand, she went back to chopping. He eventually relented and joined her in chopping, and they spent an enjoyable afternoon together chopping and cooking.

Finally finished with the meal preparation for the next day, Hermione went in search of Draco, who had wandered off the second the chopping was done, muttering about carpal tunnel or something. She was holding two cups of hot chocolate with little marshmallows floating around the top and candy canes as stir sticks.

She found him in the sitting room, sprawled out on the sofa and looking contemplatively at the tree. Plopping down beside him, she handed over the hot chocolate. "I think tomorrow's going to be the best Christmas ever," he told her, sipping his drink.

Hermione grinned and snuggled against him, smiling wider when he flung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"I think you're right," she told him.

* * *

Hours later, Harry and Ron came in search of Hermione to tell her they were alive and well after their task. They found Grimmauld Place looking more festive than it had ever been, and smelling of many delicious things baking. They were both exhausted from their difficult task, but the sight of their headquarters lightened their heavy hearts.

"What happened here?" Harry asked rhetorically, unable to remember the place ever seeming more welcoming.

"Harry, come see this," Ron whispered from the sitting room, sounding unsure whether to be awed or angry.

The first thing Harry noticed about the room was the huge, beautiful tree sparkling and lighting up the whole room. His eyebrows drew together when he noticed Hermione; she was striped like a candy cane, wearing a Slytherin bow, and snuggled up sleeping against Malfoy, who was wearing a Santa hat.

"About time," Harry said as his face relaxed into a smile; Malfoy had always had a bit of a thing for Hermione, and he wasn't the foul git he'd been as a child anymore. He wondered if the explosion of Christmas cheer all over the house was the cause or a result of the new relationship between the two on the sofa.

Ron glanced at his watch, seeing that it was past midnight. "Merry Christmas, Harry," he whispered, leading the way out of the room to their own rooms and beds.

* * *

The next morning Hermione woke up to a room full of people grinning at her, still asleep against Draco. "You're all back!" She yelled, jumping off the sofa and attempting to hug them all at once.

Draco woke with a start at her screech and fell off the couch, amusing their audience further. He glared around the room, muttering profanities.

"You two seem to have had an interesting few days," Ginny said with a knowing grin, causing Hermione to blush and Draco to smirk.

"We made a Christmas dinner for everyone..." Hermione said uncertainly, noticing how everyone perked up a little at the mention of food, it seemed they were hungry, "which we could heat it up and make a Christmas lunch if everyone's hungry."

Ron actually whooped and rushed into the kitchen after the food.

The evil bird ended up being a hit with everyone, and Hermione relished getting her revenge by eating it. Even more popular were Draco's desserts.

"Hermione, what'd you put in this fudge? It's amazing," Ron asked around a mouthful of said fudge.

"I don't know what's in it; Draco made it while I was sleeping."

Ron sputtered and started choking. Everyone laughed as he fought to regain his breath and glared at Draco, who just shrugged and grinned.

"I get you _and_ I nearly killed Weasley. Best Christmas ever." He whispered into her ear when the attention was off of him. She tried to glare, but it melted into a smile; she couldn't help but agree with him, it _was_ the best Christmas ever.


End file.
